


honeymoon moment

by haloud



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: Alex and Michael are back together and making a run of it, but when Michael invites Alex to spend a weekend house-sitting for Isobel with him, Alex has to decline to finish up some projects.That weekend, though, it starts to storm...
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 36
Kudos: 247





	honeymoon moment

“House-sitting for Isobel?”

“Mm, yeah.” Michael came out of the kitchen and set a mug of tea on the end table beside Alex, then rounded the couch to drop down beside him. “She’s going out of town—fuckin’, spa weekend with Valenti, can you believe it?—and she’s gotten into gardening recently.” He waggled his fingers at Alex. “I’ve got way greener thumbs than Max. Max’s most successful relationships with plants are when he accidentally kills them and then writes a poem about it.”

Alex hummed, distracted by the movement of those hands and not bothering to hide it, tracking them with appreciative eyes. Michael stilled for a moment, a visual stumble, before starting to speak again, this time with a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

“Anyway, thought I’d ask if maybe you wanted to tag along.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know. Spend a weekend with me at Isobel’s place.”

A weekend with Michael. Not at either of their homes, but somewhere else, where they’d both be guests, where the pressure might be lighter, where the still-coltish limbs of their new relationship might have a chance to grow stronger.

Somewhere Alex could wake up, day after day, instead of snatched moments in between both their schedules, even if only for a weekend, to a life where they were both together and whole…

His phone went off on the bedside table, and the real world rushed back in with it. His weekend was already spoken for, calendar buried under meetings and proposals and projects, and he couldn’t afford distractions. Disappointment and dread balled into a fist in his stomach, and he stared sightlessly at his laptop screen, coming up with a dial tone instead of a way to tell Michael that his work was coming between them again.

“Hey.”

Michael’s voice was soft, even though some of the contentment had gone out of it, enough that Alex couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Hey.”

Michael reached over and took his hand, ran his thumb over the ridges of his knuckles.

He said, “It’s okay to say no, you know. If you’re too busy, if you’re not ready, if you just—don’t wanna. That’s what the shrink tells me, at least, and you know that guy’s smarter than I am.”

The words were nice, but he always spoke best with touch. His fingers were so gentle, almost reverent, sliding along Alex’s.

“I do want to,” Alex said. “I _want_ to. But I…”

“You got stuff. And you work best in your own environment.” Michael smiled, a sweet-faced look that crinkled his eyes and nose up.

Alex exhaled slowly. “I do. But—I want my environment to be your environment. I want your environment to be mine. I’m so tired of waiting; I’m so tired of ‘not now,’ ‘it’s not time yet’—aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” He moved closer, until their thighs were pressed together. “You know what I want. _Everything_ I want.”

It was one of the first things they’d worked on as they took the first tentative steps together into this new experiment. No more assumptions; no more holding back. Little by little, bit by bit, they colored within those lines, the parts of the sketch each of them carried, the picture of the life they’d coveted of each other, their impossible utopian dream left to fester for so long gone concrete, foundational, the two of them carrying together what individually broke their backs. All the truck-bed-innocence, all the hope in harmony, and the pain, too, yes, they carried that too, and the portrait they made together.

But patience. They had to learn that too, write over the all-and-nothing pendulum pattern of their lives, the feast-or-famine grasping neediness of never having enough time. One weekend didn’t have to be a big deal. They could be disappointed in the regular way.

So Alex rubbed Michael’s thigh and leaned in to kiss him. Michael had his eyes closed before their lips even me. His mouth was so soft, his body so warm just in the nearness of him, that Alex could stay in moments like that for his entire life. Michael snuck a taste of Alex’s mouth with the tip of his tongue as they pulled away, and looked at him with eyes that glittered with joy, so Alex kissed him again.

Friday came quickly. Alex’s concentration was legendary, but it was impossible not to _daydream_ of where he could be, what he could be doing, if not for work. He had to lock his phone in his desk drawer after the third time he tried to bargain with himself that he should just call Michael, spend one night, ask him to dinner. He couldn’t work anywhere but his tiny home office because his couch, his bedroom, the desk chair in the room with his piano, all of it smelled so much like rain that _breathing_ was the biggest distraction of all.

But no. It was just one weekend, and there was too much to do.

And then the _real_ rain came.

It stormed for three nights and two days straight, and by Sunday, he couldn’t take it anymore. Everything smelled like rain, everything he owned, every stitch of clothing, every _inch_ of the world. It filled Alex up until the need had nowhere to go.

So he took matters into his own hands.

* * *

House-sitting for Isobel had a few perks, sure. The kitchen, for a start, and the guest bed. But that didn’t stop Michael from grumbling at how she’d somehow managed to skip town for the fuckin’ storm of the century, and with Valenti to boot.

Michael operated on a strict “what Isobel doesn’t know can’t hurt me” policy, so he had no qualms about kicking his feet up on her coffee table, digging into a bowl of cereal with one hand and propping up a book with the other, settled in for the evening.

Until someone pounded on the front door and he had to use telekinesis to stop milk from sloshing all over the couch, that was.

When he wrenched the door open, he was expecting to see Max, maybe Isobel home early and in a pre-emptive food-on-her-couch rage, Liz coming to commiserate about some failed or frustrating experiment. What he wasn’t expecting was Alex, drenched from the walk from his car to the door. His heart kicked straight into overdrive.

“Ale—”

He didn’t even get the full name out before Alex seized him by the front of his shirt and hauled their mouths together.

The rain on Alex’s mouth was sweet, but not as sweet as what was inside it, the hot, silky slide of his tongue and the taste of him, always so intoxicating. Michael trapped their bodies against each other, one arm tight around his waist, one hand buried in his hair, and Alex returned his greed, twisting one hand in Michael’s thin shirt, the other going straight to his hair to yank and twist him wherever Alex wanted him.

Michael walked them backwards, turning so that Alex got inside as fast as possible, only for Alex to surge forward in turn and crush him against the door, wet chest pressed to Michael’s chest, hands everywhere at once.

They pulled apart only for a second, but enough for Alex to get his hands between them, fumbling with Michael’s belt, both of them laughing breathlessly at his eagerness, He made a frustrated noise when Michael grabbed him to kiss him again, unable to resist him like this (if ever)--the high flush on his cheeks, the rumpled mess of his hair, soft as silk even damp and clinging from the rain, the dilated darkness of his eyes--but he kissed back just as furiously. Michael’s lips felt bruised and tender when they pulled away again to breathe, as red and well-used as Alex’s looked.

He needed more, nipping at his ear and jaw and neck, grabbing his hips to grind them together only to let out a shocked moan at the press of Alex’s hardening cock through the thin fabric.

“ _Michael,_ ” Alex hissed. 

Michael grinned against the crook of his neck, leaving one last parting bruise before pulling back to kiss his lips, then back some more so he could look him up and down.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more romantic?”

“ _Fine._ ”

Alex tore out of his arms and stalked down the hallway to the guest bedroom, shedding his outer layer as he went, jacket first, then overshirt, then he paused in the doorway, palm against his own stomach, and drew it upward, revealing warm, tan skin inch by inch as his white tee rode up in its wake. 

And then he was out of sight, and Michael was bounding after him.

By the time he got to the bedroom, Alex was naked from the waist up, down to just his sweats, hanging loose around the curve of his ass, the shape of his cock outlined in the light gray fabric, making Michael’s mouth _water_ , and he crossed the room to yank him back into his arms, slide his hand down the back of his pants to grab a handful of his ass and squeeze.

The tips of his fingers, firmly massaging Alex’s ass, dipped just in between his cheeks to find him already wet, already stretched enough for the tip of one finger to slip inside, and Michael moaned, cock throbbing at the plain, joyful eagerness spilling from Alex in waves.

Alex laughed with his arms trapped between them and grabbed two fistfuls of Michael’s already-stretched shirt and shoved him playfully away.

Michael staggered back and flopped on the bed, a huge grin splitting his face. Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched, hungry, as Alex cocked his hip and plucked at the drawstring of his pants.

And then the gray fabric was pooling on the floor and he was gloriously naked, stalking forward two steps until he could throw his legs over and straddle Michael’s thighs, staring down at him like a conquering hero.

“I’m ready for you,” he said. “I want you. Fuck, you always smell so fucking good—"

Alex’s greedy hands stroke his chest and stomach, raking him with his nails, making his back arch and his nipples harden at the sensation. Michael yanked his shirt all the way off, and Alex sat back to let him even as he let out a snarl of frustration, stroking himself like he couldn’t wait even that short while to be touched, like any small delay was unacceptable. Michael’s heart rabbited in his chest, all eagerness and pleasure and simple, shocked joy at having Alex in a time he thought he wouldn’t have him, a Sunday evening that was meant for work but now was meant for _them._

That sappy thought must have leaked onto his face, because Alex tilted his head and, with a soft smile and a light touch to Michael’s stomach, leaned down to kiss over his heart.

Then he sat back and gripped his dick again and his smile turned sharper, eyes slipping half-shut.

“Mm, Michael…”

Michael shoved his pants down a few inches, almost dislodging Alex in the process, but he recovered quickly, crawling further up to straddle his chest. Closer, Michael could see the way wetness beaded at his tip, the way he caught it on his fingers and used it to slick each stroke, and Michael rested the tip of his tongue on his lip, wanting a taste, wanting the heat and the musk and the—

“Lube,” Alex ordered, interrupting Michael’s thoughts, and he gave him what he wanted in a snap.

Alex reached behind himself, filled himself with two fingers just to keep himself stretched.

“Want you,” he panted, “Was trying to finish work but all I could think about—all I could hear was the rain and all I could _smell_ was—fuck, I want you, I want to lick every inch of you, I want you inside me, fuck, you’re _mine—”_

And Michael, Michael needed too, to crush their bodies together all friction and heat and pure, blissful sensation in the breath of space between them. He grabbed Alex by the small of his back, rolled them until Alex’s back hit the bed and Michael arched above him, Alex’s legs spread to either side, open and needing and _his,_ every bit as much as Michael was his. Alex’s eyes burned, Michael couldn’t look away, pressed their foreheads together at the same time their hips rolled to meet, a hard, desperate rhythm, their cocks sliding together, clumsy and _there_ and _oh_ and all greed and grasping adoration.

Michael slicked his fingers to add them to Alex’s, working in and out of his hole as he twisted impatiently against the sheets, until he seized Michael’s wrist in a bruising grip and snarled, “Now, I’m ready, _now—”_

Pulling his fingers free, Michael tugged Alex closer, frotted his cock against the cleft of his ass until, snarling again, Alex grabbed his shoulders and dug his nails in, ten bright points of pain that made Michael laugh all wild.

He fed his cock into Alex’s open, willing body, Alex, who arched into the feeling sharp and raw, one thrust and his hands flew up to Michael’s neck, hauling him in to kiss him. Michael crawled up further, blanketing Alex’s entire body with his body, twining them together so close, the angle wasn’t great for thrusting but that was fine, the way they moved together was just good enough, was perfect, had them both panting into each other’s mouths. Everything else washed away, everything that wasn’t _them._

Their hearts pounded. The rain pounded down outside.

Alex licked a broad stripe up his neck, up his veins to the hollow behind his ear, and rested there, their heads together, teeth against thin skin, hot breath against thin skin, their arms around each other, Alex’s cock trapped between them, rubbed by the friction of their bodies. Michael came, like that, tightened his grip on him, fingers digging in, splayed broad, holding as much of him as _possible,_ and Alex snapped his teeth when he tried to pull out, held him there, held him close and connected and _there,_ until Alex came as well in the space between them.

They held each other afterward. The bed smelled like rain. Alex smelled like rain. Alex smelled like Michael all over him.

“I love you,” Michael rasped against the side of Alex’s head, letting his eyes fall shut, not willing to move even an inch.

Alex hummed, blissful and quiet, walking his fingers up Michael’s spine to rub at the back of his neck, making Michael tuck his face in closer, even closer.

“I never thought,” Alex said, “I could miss someone that much. To the point of distraction. All those years of missing you and torturing myself over it, and it takes 48 hours of knowing you’re just relaxing across town to…”

“Hey,” Michael said, hugging him tighter, and then he was quiet for a moment. Loving Alex had, in fact, been his biggest distraction for almost half his life, now. Either the loving him or the trying not to. But that was a difference between them, one Michael knew, now, how he had loved and been possessed by it, and Alex had loved with the lights off, hands and feet tucked in close so as not to dangle over the bed.

They were both learning different ways of loving, now.

“So you had a bit of a honeymoon moment,” Michael said, pulling back just enough for them to be able to look each other in the eye, their heads resting together on one pillow. “I think we’re allowed to have those.”

Alex actually blushed, and he clunked their foreheads together. “Yeah? I like the sound of that.”

“Maybe you can finish your work here? I won’t be _too_ distracting. Gotten it out of our systems, right?”

“As if.” Alex rolled his eyes playfully, and Michael couldn’t _not_ kiss him.

“Just gonna be doing laundry. Can’t let Isobel come back to sheets smelling like this, after all. No distractions, just chores.”

At that, Alex’s dick actually gave a little twitch of interest, and they both burst out laughing, hiding their faces in each other’s shoulders, Alex’s red-hot blushing ear pressed against Michael’s cheek.

“So I like the thought of you being all domestic,” Alex laughed.

“Oh, I’m going to fulfill your wildest fantasies, then,” Michael said in return. “Let me go get your computer and anything else you need. You can take your leg off and get comfortable…and when I get back, I can make us something for a late dinner? Or go straight to dessert, if it’s too late for you.”

Alex pulled back again, and just looked at him for a long moment, a tiny smile on his face. His hands were on Michael’s back, his neck, but he brought one up to trail a single finger down the bridge of Michael’s nose, to the tip, to rest against his lips. Michael was too mesmerized even to tease, to lick the pad of that finger with the tip of his tongue.

“Okay,” Alex said. “Let’s do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> *chinhands* thinkin about how maybe the well-adjusted future aint so nebulous anymore


End file.
